A Knight in Red-Gold Armor
by mholub00
Summary: Leaving is what Old Tony would have done, and he's not Old Tony anymore. (Tony Stark saves the day.) (One-shot)


The room is drowned in darkness, not even the slightest of New York's city lights finding their way through blacked out windows. Tony closes the door slowly behind him, giving his eyes time to adjust. He can hear the water running in the bathroom, a sure reminder of why he's creeping into her room in the first place- they all knew she liked to take long showers, but even Pepper had agreed three hours was a bit excessive- and he'd pulled the short end of the stick (though if he was asked, he'd say he volunteered to come. He would never admit to losing 'Nose Goes' to two men who didn't even know what the game was).

His foot connects with the corner of a dresser he hadn't realized was there and he swears, hopping to his right on instinct. It is times like this he wishes he still had his arc reactor, or at least that he would feel less guilty about invading her space by turning on the lights.

Using the wall as a guide, he manages to find the bathroom door. He pauses, nervous about what he might find. Bruce was sure something was wrong, but none of them know her well enough to be sure. The thought crosses his mind that she could just be taking a shower, and he shakes the accompanying image from his head. Focus, he reminds himself, and forces the door open.

It's not steamy, like he expected it to be, and everything feels cold and it's not quite as dark as before, the weak lamp sitting on the counter casting orange-gold shadows over half of the room. Not wanting to run into anything again, Tony pulls his phone out of his pocket. The lights aren't very bright together, but they're enough that he can slowly make his way towards the shower.

"Hey Red?" Tony calls into the darkness that engulfs where the light doesn't reach. He gets a soft whimper in response and he can hear short, panicked breathing.

Tony swears again as he hits himself with the shower door, briefly forgetting that it opens outward. Near-freezing water splashes onto him and he steps backward on instinct. He's contemplating turning around and leaving, telling everyone else she's fine, when he hears her voice.

"Clint?" She sounds small and weak and terrified.

"No Red, it's Tony." He reminds himself that leaving is what Old Tony would have done, and he's not Old Tony anymore. He's a good person now, and New Tony takes a deep breath and steps into the cold.

In the faint light his phone offers, he finds her huddled in the corner, knees pulled to her chest and her head between them, palms flat on the cool tile of the shower floor. The normally red curls hang straight and wet, draped over her knees to completely hide her face. He forces himself to slide down the wall and sit next to her and he can feel the cold and wet everywhere.

Hesitantly, he reaches a hand out and lays it in what he hopes is a comforting manner on her back. The cotton of her sweatshirt is soaked. "Are you okay?" he asks, though the answer is obvious. He can feel her whole body shaking.

The shake of her head she replies to him with is barely that, just a slight jerk to one side and back. "I…I can't…can't breathe," she manages to choke out after a minute.

He looks up from the spot on the ground he'd been staring at, concern all over his face. The realization of what's going on hits him and panic attacks suddenly feel like something completely new and entirely foreign that he is most certainly not prepared to deal with.

"Um, okay. Okay," he mutters, his mind empty of anything helpful. Instead, images of the last time Natasha had a meltdown fill his head, the screaming and blood and the video clip he'd watched after. The _several_ videos he'd watched even after that. He shakes his head, blinking twice and dismissing the thoughts. This isn't that. This is just a regular old panic attack. _Pull yourself together man_, he thinks even though he feels like panicking himself now; _She needs help- she needs you._

"Okay, Red. I need you to look at me," he says, moving so he's in front of her. The cold water is uncomfortable, pounding on his head, and he tries to ignore it.

"I—I need…" She takes another raspy breath. "Clint."

Tony stomach drops and he's reminded again of the screaming, of last time. "Shit—Clint's not here, Red. He's not here."

She whimpers again, a rather unnerving sound, but doesn't move.

"Hey, hey; it's going to be okay, got it? But I need you to look at me, Red. Look at me." He slides his hand under her chin, lifting up her head.

The amount of fear Tony sees in her green eyes honestly scares him. He always had the idea that the Black Widow was unbreakable, that they were both unbreakable, and he reminds himself this isn't the Black Widow. This is Natasha; just Natasha.

"Eyes on me, okay Red? Eyes on me." Her eyes close but she opens them again, looking at least in his general direction. "Good, Red, good. Deep breathes, okay? In through your nose, Red, okay?"

He didn't think Natasha was capable of crying, but he watches as the tears cascade down her cheeks, identifiable even among the water dripping from her hair.

"Clint," she says in a struggled whisper. "He—he always…I need—"

"I know, Red, I know. In through your nose, okay? You're going to be alright." She nods slightly, her eyes never leaving his face, and he reaches down, holding one of her ice cold hands between two of his own.

He remembers The Kid then, his own panic attacks in the Tennessee snow. Harley had just talked and kept talking; distracted him, took his mind off of the panicking part. The Kid had helped, and he thinks maybe he can do the same for Natasha.

"There's this bar in Montana called The Rhino," Tony starts, and her eyes refocus on his face. "That's good, Red. Good. Eyes on me, in through your nose. I went there once, last December- you get that new car with that new car smell and you just want to drive it, you know? And I just kept driving and managed to hit Montana. Middle of nowhere, some downtown, and it's Montana and nobody really recognizes me; slightly annoying, but hey, what can you do?

"So this bar is loud and crowded, college kids playing pool and peanut shells all over the floor. I walk in and take a seat at the counter, ask the bartender what's good. She brings me a Bloody Mary, and I swear Red, it is still the best I've ever had. I'm about halfway through the glass when this kid two seats down, probably mid-twenties, and a bar tender with a thick mustache, just start laughing their heads off. And the bartender has this deep voice and he says to the kid, 'Where the hell do ya find these thin's, Hank?' but the kid is laughing too hard and saying, 'Why is that so cute? I don't understand' over and over." Tony pauses, making sure she's still with him, and her breathing has relaxed to the point where he's almost not worried.

"Then he turns to me, the kid, still laughing, and he says, 'Mister Stark, what did the shy pebble wish?' At first I'm entirely stunned that someone in the middle of nowhere actually knows who I am. But then I'm all 'of course they know who I am, I'm Tony Stark!' Anyway, the kid gives me a second to answer but I obviously don't know so I let him continue. 'That she was just a little bolder!' he says, and he's laughing again. 'Because she's shy and a pebble and wants to be bolder, and a boulder like a rock! Why is that so cute?' And then, to top it all off, he falls off his stool.

"And that, Red, is the story of the cutest joke I've ever heard," he finishes.

"You're okay now," he says, and it sounds more like a relieved statement than the question he meant it to be, and she nods, moving to wipe the remaining tears from her face. "Good, because I am freezing." He reaches up, turning off the shower. His t-shirt clings to his body and he thinks about how nice it will be to put on something dry.

Slowly, he stands and pulls her off the tiled floor with him. She looks at him with those emerald eyes that still look scared and against his better judgment, against everything Old Tony hated about contact for no reason and comforting people, he gives her a hug.

"Sorry," he says when he lets her go. "That was awkward. I don't really do the hugging thing, but you looked like you could use one."

A weak smile crosses her face. The shaking in her hands has stopped and he listens to her deep, even breathing and gives himself a mental pat on the back; New Tony has saved the day.


End file.
